


Din's Sick Day

by Lailuva



Series: 101 Yoditos AU [10]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: 101 Yoditos AU, Fluff, Gen, Please give Din Djarin a break, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lailuva/pseuds/Lailuva
Summary: When you're sick, you're sick.  But with 101 kids trying to help, what's a single dad to do?
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin & the 101
Series: 101 Yoditos AU [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065464
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheKeeperofBabyYoda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKeeperofBabyYoda/gifts).



> Tumblr prompt: thekeeperofbabyyoda asked "How would the kids react to Din getting sick? Like he just ate something bad or a stomach bug, but he is not having a good time."

The only thing worse than puking your guts out in the vac tube, Din decided, was having an audience while you did it.

He tried not to look as he spit, attempting to get the taste of bile out of his mouth and dreading another wave, but he knew there were currently 101 children trying to press into the ‘fresher after him, only held at bay by the few “Back”s he’d managed to get out before he’d had no choice but to kneel with his face in the vac tube to keep vomit from making a mess of the floor.

His stomach flopped and he heard some definite noises of disgust and worry as he threw up again. Fuck, this was awful. “Go back to bed,” he rasped at the kids.

“But Dad, you’re sick,” protested his eldest.

“I’ll be fine,” said Din. He didn’t need to look to know he was getting a massive stink-eye from Yod’ika and probably the rest as well, but whatever. “Just go back to sleep.”

“You’re supposed to get medicine when you’re sick,” said Yod’ika 59 from somewhere near the sink. “We gotta get Buir a medicine.”

“What medicine?” asked what sounded like Yod’ika 42.

“I dunno. Maybe the purple one.”

“Only grown-ups can get in the medicines. Papa said so.”

Din groaned and pressed his face to the cool rim of the vac tube and wondered if he could successfully convince them that going back to sleep was the only thing that could cure him, or if he was going to have to get up and stop them from getting telekinetically into the cabinets again. Dammit, he’d thought he could make it through bedtime, get them all asleep and then chug something from the medkit to soothe his aching, shivering body and flipping stomach, sleep it off and be ready to face the morning, but no, his stupid body had to get sick -

There was a soft coo and he looked down to see that even Ika’ika had gotten out of his crib and was now crawling up to his knee. Haar’chak, Din did not have the energy to try and keep him from crawling into the vac tube.

Never in his life had Din been more grateful for the sound of the door opening and Cara stomping in like a herd of rontos. “Down, girl,” he heard her say cheerfully to Boga Jr. over the varactyl’s calls, and then more footsteps as she came inside and no doubt saw all the empty beds. “Din?” she yelled. “You decent?”

“No,” Din shouted back. His stomach flopped dangerously and he grabbed on to Ika’ika’s onesie before hovering his face over the vac tube again, but nothing came up this time.

“I forgot that blaster you said I could borrow,” said Cara, hanging out by the door from the sound of her voice. “What’re you all still doing up? It’s late.”

“Daddy’s sick,” whined Yod’ika 34. “Make him better.”

“Din?” He could hear Cara approaching rapidly. “You all right?”

“Buir doesn’t have his helmet!” protested Yod’ika 21, echoed by several of his brothers.

“All right, all right.” Din heard Cara stop in the hallway, far enough she wouldn’t be able to see him even though the ‘fresher door was open; by the time he’d had to make an undignified run for it, there hadn’t been time to shut it, and the kids would’ve opened it effortlessly while following him anyway. “What’s wrong?” Cara called.

“Stomach bug,” he answered. Nothing was coming up anymore - he wasn’t sure there was anything left - so he retrieved his helmet from the floor, replaced it, scooped up Ika’ika, and wobbled to his feet.

The kids clustered around his feet, Yod’ika shoving aside anyone who moved between him and Din, all of them making those anxious chirring noises they tended to make when they were worried. Cara was standing in the hall, looking worried. “It’s fine,” Din told her. “I’ll be fine.”

Cara was eyeing him critically. “You look like shit and I can’t even see your face. Are you sure you don’t need -”

As one, 101 children turned to Cara, 101 pairs of ears flattened and a dangerous look gleaming in 101 pairs of eyes.

“- to lie down,” Cara finished lamely.

The kids were not fooled. A few months ago, when a nasty cold had ravaged the entire clan including Din, the idea of a doctor had been brought up and the Yod’ike had universally rejected it. It didn’t matter that Din had tried to explain that doctors were supposed to help and heal and he would never, ever let one hurt them. Kamino had taught them that people in white coats titled “Doctor” were scary and cruel, torturers and tormentors. Din couldn’t really blame them, but it did mean that the last time Cara had mentioned a doctor he’d had to stop them from collectively throwing her out of the house, quite literally.

“I think I should lie down,” Din said. That sounded fantastic right now.

The kids immediately whined, several clutching his leg and a cacophony of voices pounding his aching head. “No, Buir, you need a medicine!” “Don’t go to the doctor, Papa!” “Dad, I want to stay with you.” “Can we have soup, Daddy? So you feel better?” “Baba, are you really sick? Really? You can’t be sick, or they’ll take you away…” “Yeah, one of the doctors will yoo-tha-nayz you. What’s that mean, anyway, Daddy?”

Din felt much sicker all of a sudden, but looked down and tried to give the kids a smile; they would sense it even if they couldn’t see it. “Ba’vodu is right. I just need some rest. Go to bed and I’ll do the same, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

The kids whined again, but Cara’s voice cut through them. “You heard him. Off to bed.”

The kids protested “But-!” and several made a keening noise, but Cara sternly pointed at the main room where their beds were. _“Now,”_ she said. Her voice was so stern even Boga Jr. scuttled off.

Reluctantly, the kids detached themselves and started shuffling off to bed, hugging Din’s leg and making him feel guilty because he was pretty sure bending over to provide good night hugs and head pats would send him right back to the vac tube. Cara herded them along until only Yod’ika was left, clutching Din’s leg, and Ika’ika curled up in his hand.

“Good night, Yod’ika,” said Din.

Yod’ika clutched his leg harder. “Don’t go to the doctor, Dad,” he said in a small voice.

Even once Yod’ika had learned to speak, Din had never gotten him to say anything about his brief time in the Empire’s clutches and under the “care” of Doctor Pershing; he only knew that his child still had nightmares about it. “It’s okay, ad’ika. It’s just a stomach bug. I just need some rest.”

Yod’ika showed no sign of letting go, so Din leaned down as far as he dared and held out the sleepy little one in his palm. “Will you take Ika’ika to his bed for me, please?”

“Yes, Dad.” Carefully Yod’ika took the littlest clan member and shuffled off towards the kids’ beds, where Din could hear Cara herding children into their beds, her voice brooking no argument. She preferred to be the fun one rather than the stern one, but she certainly could pull a commanding tone when she needed it.

Yod’ika glanced back in the doorway, still looking worried. “Good night, ad’ika. I”ll see you in the morning,” said Din encouragingly, and he finally watched his oldest and youngest toddle away.

For his part, Din stumbled back to his own room. He was pretty sure there was nothing left in his gut, and right now all he wanted was to sleep for the next several hours. Possibly days.

Cara knocked, waiting for his say-so before opening the door. “I’ll get them down, don’t worry about it. You need anything?”

“No,” said Din. “Thank you,” he added, hoping half of his gratitude was coming through in his voice. The kids got so protective when he had so much as a scratch, let alone being actually sick, and he knew he never would’ve gotten them to sleep himself and would still be stuck in that ‘fresher trying to keep them out of the medkit.

“Get some rest. I got this.” Cara made to shut the door, pausing to let Boga Jr. rush in and launch herself onto Din’s bed before closing it and leaving Din in peace - or at least as much peace as he could get when he could still hear her loudly saying “In the crib, womp rat - I mean it!”

He got the helmet off and set aside before collapsing into bed, Boga Jr. immediately curling around his feet and resting her head on his thigh. He managed to absently scratch her head feathers in thanks, earning a rumbling purr.

“Night night, Daddy!” someone yelled from the other room before being echoed by a hundred more voices.

“Good night,” Din mumbled, and then he was out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the previous chapter, because there is just too much gold to mine out of that scenario. Sorry Din.
> 
> #tbh I was just thinking what the hell kind of meal the kids would make if left alone #with a toddler's skills and an alien's vague understanding of what humans 'liked'

Din could hear quiet shuffling and whispers long before the door carefully creaked open. He didn’t dare move, and he hoped the varactyl draped over the end of the bed and his legs wouldn’t either. Maybe, if they thought he was asleep, the kids would just creep back off to bed and let him rest.

That wasn’t going to happen, though. They could always tell, no matter how well he faked it. He could already hear the pitter-patter of little feet and the whispered arguments - “He’s not awake” “Yes he is!” “We can’t wake Buir up, he’s still sick” “But Daddy needs food” - as they slowly snuck into his room. The kids could be very quiet when they had a mind to, and this was not one of those times.

It had also not been one of those times when he’d been woken what felt like every thirty minutes last night to multiple someones scuffling around the floor and crawling over him, whispering “I don’t think he’s asleep” and tucking a stuffed animal under his arm to “help” him go back to sleep. He was pretty sure every plush he had ever bought was currently lost somewhere in his bedding, and from the way his back felt some of the plasticine figures might’ve made it there too.

At this point, he was seriously considering locking himself in the _Razor Crest_ until he got this stupid sickness out of his system.

He felt the mattress dip as someone climbed on it and carefully walked up to his side. Din willed himself to keep his eyes shut, keep his breathing even, and not move. Stars, of course he adored his kids, he’d do anything for them, but is it too much to ask for some damn rest -

A tiny little hand patted his shoulder. “Dad?”

Well, there was no choice at the sound of his eldest son’s voice. Din cracked an eye open to see those big brown eyes and adorable green wrinkles right in his face. “Good morning, ad’ika.”

“Good morning,” chorused what had to be at least fifty or sixty of the kids crowding into his room. They had no compunctions about being quiet now and Din winced as his head pounded.

“Are you better now, Dad?” Yod’ika asked, experimentally patting his face. “You said you would feel better after you rested.”

Din lowered the hand. “A little better, yeah.” His stomach wasn’t feeling very agreeable and he sort of felt like a mudhorn had trampled him, but that was better than puking his guts out and definitely feeling like a mudhorn had trampled him.

“Are you hungry?” Yod’ika asked.

Eyes bright, ears perked up, a hopeful smile. This was a trap. “A little,” Din said cautiously.

“We made you breakfast!” squealed one of the younger ones from below. Yod’ika whirled around to glare at the offender; clearly he was supposed to be the one to deliver the special news.

Immediately there were more feet shuffling and the clink of wobbling dishes and that made Din sit up, ready to grab anything that fell, because like _hell_ was he buying yet another set. A cluster of Yod’ike were carefully levitating a tray that had likely been “borrowed” from Kuiil’s junk heap from the look of it; on top of it was a plate of bread dotted with claw marks and smeared with fingerprinted jogan jam, a bowl of at least five cereals mixed together with what looked like his special tiingilar spice mixture that he kept in a supposedly childproof container, and a cup of blue milk that - yes, yes that _was_ a live frog desperately trying to hop up the sides.

“We made it for you!” chorused all the bright voices as the tray wobbled through the air and finally settled on Din’s lap, mercifully without spilling anything, and he got an even closer look at his early morning feast. The bread looked like someone had already taste-tested it for him, possibly multiple someones. Yes, those were definitely handprints all through the jam. And what might be a footprint. And yes that was definitely his special, handmade spice mixture he’d spent time and credits crafting in the cereal, and from the amount it looked like they had dumped all of it in there on top of a mixture of the few meat-containing breakfast cereals he’d been able to find. He didn’t recognize that colorful one, though - oh fucking hell, was Cara sneaking them that sugared shit again?

Before he could think about if he should yell at her or just challenge her to a fight over it, another dozen kids were clambering up on his bed. “Do you like it, Papa?” chirped Yod’ika 19.

All those big, brown, wonderful, sweet eyes were fixed expectantly on him.

“It looks great,” said Din with all the enthusiasm he could muster. The poor frog croaked loudly.

“Yay!” The kids all clapped and cheered, ears perking and wiggling excitedly as they turned to congratulate each other on a job well done. Din took advantage of the distraction to fish the frog out of his milk and toss it surreptitiously out the nearest window.

“Are you going to eat it, Dad?” asked Yod’ika, and suddenly Din was fixed with the eager, hopeful gaze and perked-up ears of all his sons, beaming with pride over their handiwork and waiting for their father to try the feast they’d brought him.

Din tried not to wilt under those expectant looks. “I think my stomach needs to settle a little more.”

“Aww.” Ears drooped, eyes fell. “But I caught that frog just for you,” said Yod’ika 60 in a tiny, plaintive voice. “Don’t you wanna try anything?”

Din really, really needed to learn how to say no to those adorable faces.

But for now, he decided the cereal was probably the safest bet. He scooped up a few of the O shapes and tossed them in his mouth, the spices burning enough to hide most of the flavor of the cereal. Yes, this was definitely his handmade spice mix and there would definitely be a talk about using Dad’s special ingredients without permission when he felt better. For now, the fact that he was still sick was enough to appreciate the fact the kids had tried to make the cereal as palatable as possible to a human and leave it at that.

They were all staring at him expectantly. “It’s good,” Din lied.

Their faces lit up and they all started clapping and cooing and cheering happily again. “Yay! Buir liked it!”

“We forgot to give him a spoon.”

“I got it!” Yod’ika 55 shuffled out from the back, putting a human-sized spoon in his mouth so he could climb up the bedding and waddling up to Din before pulling it out and proudly presenting it to him, gleaming with spit. “Here you go, Papa.”

“Thank you,” said Din, carefully setting it on his tray.

“Don’t you want more, Baba?” asked someone from the crowd, and all those expectant eyes were on him again, ears raising higher with excitement.

The breakfast meal on his lap was adorable, precious, and would remain a treasured memory until his dying day, but _like hell_ was another bite of this monstrosity going into his stomach. “In a bit. My stomach still needs to settle.” Mildly, he asked, “Is the kitchen cleaned up?”

The silence was answer enough.

“Go tidy up the kitchen. Kuiil can help you when he arrives.” Din was pretty sure he would be happier if he never knew what state the kitchen was currently in. “He’ll be here soon so shut the door on your way out, please.” He gave them all a big smile. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome, Dad!” they all cooed, and Din was momentarily swarmed by his children showering him with hugs. He returned each and every one, watching to make sure they headed out the door and praying they wouldn’t wake up the babies. His friends had been taking turns helping out while he’d been sick, and Kuiil should be here soon enough to help with the needy infants, but if they woke up he’d have no choice but to look after them himself when the concerned older brothers dragged the little ones into his room.

Although right now Din was pretty sure caring for the babies would be easier than managing the older ones.

Yod’ika 55 finally toddled off after Din thanked him again for the spoon, and then only Yod’ika was left, still snuggled close into Din’s arm. “Are you really feeling better, Dad?” he asked.

“Yes,” Din said. At his eldest’s doubtful look, he said, “I just need another day or two of rest. That’s all.” He stroked one of the long ears affectionately. “I’ll be fine.”

Yod’ika hugged him silently, then trotted off after his brothers, pulling the door shut after him with a wave of his hand.

Boga Jr. jumped up. “Stay,” Din ordered, and she squalled irritably at him, clearly wanting to be where the action - and the spilled food - was.

“I need your help,” said Din. He set the plate of bread and jam at his feet for her. “Eat up.”

Boga Jr. chirred happily and started gulping down the bread. For once, Din was grateful the kids were constantly giving her table scraps and that the hungry young varactyl would eat just about anything. He was pretty sure she’d drink the milk, and that meant he only had to deal with the cereal. Surely there was a spare shirt or laundry bag in his closet that he could hide it in until he could safely dispose of it.

For now, though, the pet and the kids were occupied and Din had no intention of wasting this opportunity. He lay back and closed his eyes.


End file.
